[Critique Group 1] Mqay 2019 Submission

[Deanna Noriega]

You will probably appreciate this one as it is shorter than many of the
others.

 

Chapter 27

The Little Coyote

 In June of 2015, I was back at The Seeing Eye for 18 days of training. My
instructor was once more Sue M.  I am now matched with Enzo, a beautiful
gentle German shepherd dog who thinks he should be allowed to sit on car
seats. He loves his crate as a place of his own to retire from the hurly
burly of our home. He doesn't play with toys but is a power chewer. I left
class early when he detoured up a flight of steps and I fell, bruising my
right knee. I didn't get to go to New York City for the first time in my
nine trips to the Seeing Eye. 

As much as it hurts to lose a dog to illness or a need for a career change,
Enzo has already begun to teach me that we must be ready to look forward and
let the past stay in the past. We live in the now and that can be a pretty
great place to be.

Enzo has a lovely soft coat in the black and tan pattern. The tan portions
of his coat are a reddish strawberry blonde color. His ears tilt outward
giving him a somewhat cock-eyed headset. He is endlessly curious. If we are
walking down a hallway of examination rooms at a dental or doctor
appointment, he will pop his head around to look into all of the open doors
we pass. If allowed, he would greet everyone we pass with a friendly sniff.
He hates going the same direction he has gone before. My husband Curtis gave
him the moniker of coyote, because he is mischievous. If I am not alert, he
will purposely turn the opposite direction from the one I need to take. It
isn't because he doesn't know where we should go, but his curiosity about
what else might be out there. When I catch him out, he readily obeys my
commands and takes the route I insist upon. He isn't interested in toys, but
will stealthily steal them from my husband's large shepherd and hide them.
Then he will lie down and wait for Keeno, Curt's shepherd to begin franticly
looking for the missing toy. He will look on innocently as Keeno races about
looking for it.

 

I retired three years ago, to care for my husband who now uses a wheelchair.
We moved into town to what we call our aging in place home. Enzo likes to
work and adapts well to any changes in our routines. He is always eager and
ready to escort me out the door to catch a bus, ride a paratransit van or
catch an airplane. I am now experiencing a bit of vertigo and he changes his
pace and works hard to keep me safe. He moves across in front of me when we
approach stairs and doesn't allow me to step forward until he sees that I
have my hand on the handrail of stairs or escalators. At age seventy, I
don't know if there will be a tenth dog in my life, but I can look back on
fifty years of walking with friends at my side. Through times of trial and
sadness, joy and laughter, I have had the pleasure of sharing my life with
nine wonderful guide dogs. Were they perfect? Of course not! They were each
different and performed their jobs in unique ways. 

If my dogs could talk, they might explain their careers like this:

 

More Than A dog

When you see me walk by,

You might praise my good looks,

You might think that I am working too hard.

Though my harness is heavy,

I wear it with pride.

My duties are many.

To alter our course

To go around things,

Those that move and remain still.

To tell about steps,

Both up and those down.

To watch out for traffic,

To look left and right,

And to also look up.

Too remember the places we have been.

To guide and protect.

I am more than a dog.

I am a friend a confidante,

A guardian, a pathfinder.

I am a comforter, and a seeker

I am a guide dog.

 

Since receiving my first guide dog Tammy in 1968, eight successor dogs have
taken up their stations at my left side.  Each dog shouldered the
responsibility of guiding to the best of his or her ability.  Each brought a
savor and enjoyment to my life with their companionship.  They walked beside
me for a while, sharing my journey, helping me to meet and overcome the
challenges inherent in being a blind woman.  From each dog, I learned
lessons that have enriched my life. They have been responsible for my being
able to board planes 
early, occasionally even being moved from the economy seating I can afford
to first 
class.  They have given me the opportunity of meeting likeminded people who
also
love dogs. They have kept me safe and made it possible for me to go where I
want, when I want and added immeasurably to the quality of my journey by
assuring I didn't have to walk alone.   

 

Two of my dogs had serious medical problems and two quit guiding due to
stress. Because I entrust my safety to every canine partner, a bond of
mutual respect and love has developed between me and each successor dog.
Only by weighing the complex interactions between me as handler and my dog,
can I determine when that moment has arrived to start looking for a
retirement home for my partners.  Because I form a very strong bond with my
dogs, I try to allow myself plenty of time between dogs.  This is partly so
as not to make unfair comparisons between the new pup and the old
experienced guide.  I also want to get so frustrated by having to use a cane
that I remember why I use a dog by choice. I am patient with my new friend
as he learns the ropes of what I expect from him.  I don't believe anyone
makes these decisions lightly or frivolously.  Like any other relationship,
outsiders can't readily judge the depth of the bond between blind person and
dog guide.  How and when to retire a dog is always a wrenching decision. The
blind handler is the one who should make the decision.  He or she can ask
advice from vets and from the school's field staff if not sure of the
dynamics of changes observed in how well the dog guides.  Only the handler
can decide whether to slow one's lifestyle to accommodate an aging friend or
when it is time to retire a loyal companion. 

 

I hope you have enjoyed reading this book, sharing the journey I have walked
with the companionship of nine unique dogs. Thanks to the puppy-raisers who
gave a piece of their hearts to each puppy they prepared for a life of
service, the trainers who work to impart the skills necessary to guide a
blind person, to the dedication and intelligence of the dogs themselves,
life as a partner in a guide dog team is possible. If you enjoyed getting to
know my nine partners in crime, I will share a final gift of humor. Here are
three additional sketches of life as a guide dog from the dog's perspective,
which I have written over the years.

 

 

 

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